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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312958">On the Edge of Glory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiehellcat/pseuds/dixiehellcat'>dixiehellcat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tony Stark Bingo Round 4 [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(appearances notwithstanding), (at least for this playtime hehe), Begging, Bondage, Bottom Pepper Potts, Consensual Non-Consent, Desperation Play, Edging, Enthusiastic Consentacles, F/M, Gags, Kinky Tech, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Predicament Bondage, Roleplay, Suspension, Tentacles, Tie and tease, Top Tony Stark, couples, loving smut, much fluffier than you may expect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:56:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiehellcat/pseuds/dixiehellcat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A stealthy intruder gets caught up in a reclusive genius’ kinky security system and is left hanging. Literally. </p><p>Fills the "Kink--Edging/Orgasm Denial" square on my Round 4 Tony Stark Bingo card number 4028. (required info collected below)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pepper Potts/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tony Stark Bingo Round 4 [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On the Edge of Glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Time frame: between Iron Man 2 and Avengers 1 (more on this in the end notes)</p><p>Bingo specifics--<br/>Title:  On the Edge of Glory<br/>Author: deehellcat<br/>Card Number: 4028<br/>Square Filled (Letter AND number AND prompt) A4, kink: edging/orgasm denial<br/>Ship/Main Pairing: Pepperony<br/>Rating (Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit) explicit<br/>Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Role-Play, Bondage, Tentacles, Consensual Non-Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Kinky Tech, Desperation Play, Suspension, Gags, Predicament Bondage, Edging, Begging, Tie and Tease, much fluffier than you might expect, Couples, Loving Smut, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Pepper Potts, (at least for this playtime hehe), Enthusiastic Consentacles, (appearances notwithstanding)<br/>Summary: A stealthy intruder gets caught up in a reclusive genius’ kinky security system and is left hanging. Literally.<br/>Word Count: 4381</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The woman moved like a shadow. No one had ever burgled the reclusive genius Tony Stark’s workshop, and she intended to be the first. The hood on her dark catsuit was pulled completely up and she peered through the eye slits as she flitted around strange hunks of machinery. Her thumb idly stroked the ornate ring on her gloved finger, the device to signal the end of her mission, while she got her bearings and decided where to look first for the good stuff, the valuable tech and data any bidder would pay dearly for. </p><p>She was so focused on her prey, she failed to notice she had become prey herself, until a whiplike mechanical arm appeared out of the darkness and snaked around her waist. Her attempts to twist and roll away only brought her into range of more of its fellows. In moments, her ankles were pinned together, her wrists likewise, and her arms stretched above her head. It was a roadblock, but surely she could wiggle her way out. Stark was gone, headed for one of his dissolute nights out no doubt (dressed to the nines and sexy as hell, not that she had noticed while researching this job) so she had time to—</p><p>That plan went in the bin the next instant, as lights flared from the ceiling, and a familiar figure strolled casually toward the burglar where she stood captive. Instead of a flashy expensive suit, Tony Stark wore stained jeans and a worn t-shirt through which a faint glow showed; instead of an expression of alarm, his face wore only amusement. The intruder sternly reprimanded her hindbrain for noticing how the shirt hugged his muscular torso and the jeans barely reined in an impressive package.</p><p>“Well, well, what have we here?” He walked slowly around her, his searching eyes an almost physical contact. “You got farther past my security this time. I’m impressed.” </p><p>“No idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to pitch her voice low, in the vain hope of covering her identity. </p><p>Stark’s laugh was sharp. “You’ve made half a dozen tries at breaking in. I’d like to say I let you this time, but—no, you know what, yeah, I admit it. I did let you. Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, and I just had to see who the famous La Fatalii was.” His grin widened at the small gasp she could not hold back. “That’s right, I know who you are. Well, not who exactly, but your street name, and your rep as a master thief. Great name, by the way. Fatalii, the chili pepper that’s slightly sweet and insanely hot.” With a move quicker than she had expected from a spoiled rich boy, he pulled her hood back, and halted as if taken aback. “Ohh. Okay. You do live up to the name. The insanely hot part, anyway.” He reached toward her face and strawberry-blonde ponytail, but she jerked away. “You should dress better though,” he added, stroking one finger down the length of the zipper in the front of her catsuit, from her throat to her belly. “This makes you look like a house-brand Black Widow knockoff.”</p><p>“I’m no one’s knockoff,” she snarled, but he just grinned again.</p><p>“System, take her down, let’s confirm those wrist cuffs are doing their thing.” In unison, the arm around her waist pressed down and the ones holding her ankles pulled up. The squeak she let out as they lowered her almost carefully to her knees was not appropriate for a tough-as-nails robber.</p><p>Stark stepped close and inspected her pinioned wrists, the unexpected calluses on his fingers catching a couple of times on the elastane fabric of her suit. She held her breath when his touch trailed across the ring and paused before continuing on, then fought back a tiny shiver a second later when he gripped her inner arm on that side. He did not need to know she was exquisitely sensitive there. The fact that her face was right about at his crotch level did not help keep her from getting turned on, nor did the animal allure of his musky male scent wafting toward her. The whole situation left her torn, more so than she should have been, considering her plight, between plots of biting him and perhaps buying herself a minute to try and escape, and flickers of imagining him in her mouth that made her moist despite herself.</p><p>Without conscious plan, she must have shifted forward somehow, because he stepped back with a scolding shake of his finger. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not one of those guys who puts my dick in dangerous places. Not on purpose, anyway. That luscious mouth of yours would look smashing stretched around my boy here; but ethics aside, the tech isn’t set up to let me do that without risk of me ending up with a nub.” </p><p>She sneered up at him. “Believe me, sexplay with you is the farthest thing from my mind.”</p><p>“It is hot, granted,” he continued, ignoring her protest, “having the infamous La Fatalii at my mercy like this. I’m honest enough to admit that. I’m also adult enough to have rules, which include never, ever, doing anything of a carnal sort with anybody without full and enthusiastic consent. So that’s off the table. Right now, I’m keeping you here till I decide what to do with you. Interpol might be interested in you, or SHIELD…Depends on who I can get the most favors from in return. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to you, but it sounds like a little research is in order as soon as I make sure you’re snug—” He leaned in to examine her wrists again, and just for spite she bared her teeth. “So you want to play it that way? Fine!” </p><p>He barked out a number, and two of the tentacle-like appendages slithered along her cheeks and past her lips before she could do more than yip. They twined around each other, stuffed her mouth full, and locked in place with a snap, pinning her head still. Being silenced didn’t stop her from struggling, grunting, and shooting daggers with her eyes at her captor, whose look of frank enjoyment at her predicament only infuriated her more. </p><p>More arms took hold of her, at thighs and knees and waist, and lifted her back to standing. One thin one curled around her neck, not tightly, its tip resting just at the pulse point in her throat; she was aware of how hard her heart was pounding and wondered crazily if the thing could detect it. Even in this dilemma, she wasn’t about to give up, and shimmied to work some slack into her bonds. She thought the tentacles that girdled her waist were loosened just a hair, until a new one shot straight up out of the floor below her, looped through the belt, and between her legs, then stilled with the click that meant they had gone rigid. Sure enough, squirm though she might, her lower body was now held fast.</p><p>Stark seemed determined to make sure of that, however. His hands roved over her body, checking every bond and managing to caress and tease her remorselessly in the process. “I don’t want you to get bored while I work,” he said, “so I’ll order the system to, um, keep you entertained.”</p><p>With that, the tentacle between her legs began to vibrate, at a low level, and she let out a throttled yelp. Stark seemed to have dismissed her, walking away with his attention on a tablet in his hand (and her attention, for all her current distractions, drawn to his epic ass in those jeans). After several unsuccessful attempts to wriggle away from the rhythmic thrum, she found she could raise herself on her toes and just clear the infernal thing, but within minutes her calves began to tire. She sank back down into the framework encasing her pelvis, and gritted her teeth around the rubbery tentacles in her mouth. Sparks of heat coursed along her nerves at the tiny oscillations, just strong enough to excite her body and then leave it tingling. <i>Sadistic son of a bitch!</i> she raged silently. In all fairness though, she had to concede that it wasn’t painful, or even uncomfortable, when her legs failed her, just tantalizing as fuck, swamping her anger in a rising tide of arousal. </p><p>Just on principle, she kept striving to lift herself away from her busily buzzing tormentor. When her legs started to tremble and feel weak as jello, she managed to twist her wrists in their fetters, grip the restraining arms overhead, and pull herself up. At the same time she wriggled enough to tip her pelvis back and take more of the contact toward her ass, where she could tolerate it without being made (much) more horny. </p><p>That helped for a bit longer, until a whir came from above her and her arms were drawn backward a short distance. Another tentacle spiraled down to her elbows and pulled them slightly toward each other. The maneuver had the cumulative effect of tilting her forward so most of the vibration ended up focused right around her clit. With her arms even that little bit behind her head, she couldn’t get decent leverage to pull up, and her legs were exhausted. All she could do was squirm in fruitless search for some position that eased the relentless excitation. The rig was, she realized, meticulously calibrated to produce the maximal amount of stimulation while denying its captive any chance of relief. In spite of her determination not to give her jailer the gratification of knowing his cunning tech was having any effect on her, a moan of frustration escaped her gagged mouth.</p><p>Stark had wandered back her way, still mumbling and pecking at his tablet until he halted before her and looked up at her groan. “Oh! hello there. You’d gotten so quiet, I almost forgot you were here.” La Fatalii growled and hoped her glare conveyed <i>no you didn’t, you lying son of a bitch</i>. “Either you’re very bored, or very engrossed in your…entertainment,” he added with a smirk. “You must be getting tired of standing though. I’m an awful host, I know, I usually have—someone—who keeps me on the straight and narrow where the social thing is concerned. Let’s do something about that, shall we?” </p><p>He tapped at the tablet. The damned buzzing stopped, but a new batch of tentacles came swarming down. Several tightened around her slim waist, snug as a vintage corset; a couple of others wound around her upper body and between her breasts. At the same time, she felt her feet leave the floor, the arms holding her ankles drawing them up and back. Her knees were bent and her heels touched her ass, as clicks told her they were fastening to the bands around her thighs. One more end whipped around her hips, and she felt herself moving for the first time since her capture, though not of her own volition. The cradle holding her pelvis was no longer attached to the floor, but hanging from the ceiling. It was almost like sitting in a small but secure suspended chair.</p><p>“There.” Stark’s voice was cool, but with a new roughness undercutting the smooth sarcasm. “I think you need to hang on the vine for a while longer to ripen, La Fatalii, my little hot pepper.” One more tap on the touchscreen, before he turned away, and the tentacles between her legs reawoke. They began to mold to the shape of the body parts they were now pressed inescapably against, swelled into bulges at her holes and cupped her clit (through her skin-tight suit that was growing humiliatingly soaked in that region). The pulses came in waves now, still providing just enough action to drive her mad, but not nearly enough to provide any release. </p><p>Somewhere along the way, her motivation had shifted; where before she had worked to get away from the rippling vibration, now she struggled to grind against it. If she could just get herself off, she could think clearly again and make a plan. It was fiendish brilliance on Stark’s part, to render her so undone that her higher mental functions shut down and the only thought in her head was how urgently she needed to come. Her struggles only succeeded in making her sway gently in the workshop’s cool oil-scented air; the tech torturing her moved with her, and she couldn’t get any purchase or friction.</p><p>“Where did those angry cat-spitting noises go?” Stark mocked when he returned, a few minutes or a few hours later—she’d lost track. “Those were hot. Have to admit though, those helpless little whimpers you’re rolling with now sound very pretty also. Very, ah, enticing.” Very, if the bulge straining against his denim was any indication. He took hold of two of the arms from which she hung, and moved in, rubbing his crotch against her bound leg, his eyes dark with his own arousal.  “You’re flushed,” he purred. “Too warm? How about some ventilation?”</p><p>As he caught hold of the zipper pull at her neck, the tentacles moved out of the way. They looped over her shoulders and spread her thighs obscenely wide, but still held her in an inexorable grasp. The suit was made for fast in and out, and the zipper ran all the way down…<i>all</i> the way down, between her legs and up the back, a fact which appeared to please Stark to no end judging by the hunger in his eyes when he scanned her, now stretched and exposed. “Like unwrapping an early birthday present,” he chuckled evilly. “And you were in such a hurry to come rob me, you didn’t even waste time putting on panties. How nice. Maybe you thought you might get lucky?” </p><p>He paused then and sniffed. Though she still fought to keep expression from her face, La Fatalii suppressed a groan; she knew what had given her away. “Somebody smells excited,” he sing-songed, and God help her, palmed his crotch through his jeans. “Not gonna lie, I would just love to slide right in, see how ready you are.” She whined, trying to plead with her eyes, but he shook his head. “Nope, can’t do that,” he jibed. “Consent, you know. Not touching you, without that.” He cocked his head as if in thought. “Although,” he amended, “I could keep you here as my plaything, my little hot pepper. All sorts of diverting things I could program the system to do with you, while I watch and please myself. I’m very creative, and you could barely imagine what I can cook up to keep you like this, or worse; quivering on the edge, until and unless you ask…no, beg.” He nodded firmly. “Yes. Definitely, since you tried to rob me, you should have to beg, and beg nicely, before I give you that little shove.”  </p><p>She screamed and fought then, despair giving her a new burst of energy, though restrained as she was, all she could do was twitch and swing a little, and frantically mewl. Stark’s eyes widened in bogus surprise. “Oops,” he said. “Silly me. You can’t very well beg with your mouth all packed, now can you? What an oversight. I suppose I should give you a chance, fair play and all that. I don’t have to remind you the house is miles from nowhere, and the workshop is soundproofed since the noise of me banging, ha, away down here annoys my boss, so screaming isn’t going to accomplish anything except give me a headache and make me cranky.” With a command, the tentacles crammed into her mouth slid away. “I believe you have something to say to me?”</p><p>What she said was a lengthy and creative string of curses directed at most elements of his being, interspersed with spits of defiance. “I,” she panted, “would never, ever ask you for anything, much less beg, much <i>much</i> less beg for your probably undersized and inexpertly wielded dick—”</p><p>Tentacles slid inside her open suit and sent shivers along her sweat-damp skin. They wound around her breasts and squeezed, and when two big ones glided between her legs and tightened against her bared and swollen crotch, she shuddered and knew what was coming. “Think carefully,” Stark warned, and when had he gotten so close she could feel his hot breath against her face? “Think very carefully about what you say next, because if I don’t approve of it, I’ll put my plaything back the way I found it…or maybe add a wrinkle or two, a few new toys to fill a few, um, gaps…and leave you dangling. You think you’ll be sane, after hanging on the vine until <i>I</i> decide otherwise, suit yourself.”</p><p>“I—I—”  Between her legs, the arms undulated, hard and strong, at the same instant the ones gripping her chest sprouted tiny tendrils that plucked at her nipples. Her hips bucked against the restraints, and she shrieked, her defiance dissolving into something more like speaking in tongues. “Ohshitohfuck-ah-ah-ah—”</p><p>“Speak English?”</p><p>“Fuck me dammit, yes, okay, fuck you, but you gotta fuck me, Stark, fuck me now!!”</p><p>A savage grin lit his face. “Thought you’d never ask.” He reeled her in, folded back her unzipped suit and scooped her breasts into his hands. The coarse pads of his fingertips fondled her already-alert nipples until they were rock hard and aching, and she keened at his eager touch. Then one hand caught her ponytail and pulled her head forward, her captor’s mouth devouring hers like a starving man at a banquet. The other hand dropped and slid past her folds. “Ohhh yeah,” he growled while he released her hair and kneaded at her jaw, achy from the gag. “So wet. I knew it. So needy. Fuck, if you could see yourself, so desperate, so goddamn gorgeous. How bad do you want me, baby?”</p><p>“Yes! Give it to me, damn you!” she yelled and humped against his hand as best she could, then wailed when he pulled out.</p><p>“I said you had to beg, remember?” His hand returned, fingers slipping into her while his thumb circled her clit, slowly, the way smoothed by her own fluids. “And beg properly. All I’ve heard so far are demands. Come on, let’s hear it, La Fatalii. Convince me. <i>Beg me</i> to let you come.”</p><p>Her last vestige of giving a shit was crushed by his merciless movements, his fingers curling and stroking inside her and pinching at her clit, so good and not nearly good enough. “Please!” she finally screamed. “Fuck me, you bastard, please, pleeeease—"</p><p>He grinned again, the utter son of a bitch. “I’ll accept that,” he rasped and opened his fly. (Her insults aside, she noted with half-dazed satisfaction that her actual estimation had been right; Tony Stark was more than well-endowed.) </p><p>When he lined up and slid home, the heat of his thick cock punched another gasping moan from her. "Yes, oh god yes, that's it, fill me up, feels so good, come on." Her babble seemed to gratify him, and with a little nod he gripped her hips and began to thrust. Every snap and pound sent her spiraling higher and higher. His mouth sealed on hers, drinking in her cries as climax crept closer and closer until the spasms  tore through her body. She felt her walls clench around him and pull him over with her. In the aftermath, he swayed a little himself, clutching onto her as she slumped spent in her bonds, until she found the presence of mind to press the red jewel in the ornate golden ring on her finger.</p><p>An alarm went off in the workshop. Tony’s head came sharply up, his eyes instantly focused on her. “Okay, JARVIS, activate Safe Landing protocol,” he ordered. A tentacle rolled a chair up behind him, and they both collapsed into it, his softening cock still half inside her and the mechanicals helping him to manage her. As they unwound from her body, Pepper sighed in boneless fulfillment and nestled into her lover’s embrace.</p><p>“Safeword button worked like a charm,” Tony said, his tone betraying his pride. Pepper hummed in agreement. “So did…did all that work for you? Was it okay? Too much, not enough—”</p><p>Pepper lifted her head just long enough to put a finger against his lips. “Shush,” she said. “It was great. You were great. This—” she waved a hand limply around—“was amazing.”</p><p>“It scratched your itch then?”</p><p>“It did. And thank you, for not looking askance at my ‘itch’.”</p><p>“Please. Have you even met me? As if I’m one to kink-shame anybody. You’re so together all the time, sometimes just wanting to let go is totally reasonable. And how better than with a genius boyfriend with a kinky streak as wide as the PCH? Not that you aren’t a genius too, Miss Potts. Cooking up a choose-your-own-adventure fantasy where you could cut to the chase when you decided you’d had enough, and all I had to do was stay in character, such as that was, and follow your lead? Quintessential topping from the bottom, and I’m here for it any time you want to play. Figuring out an edging setup to ‘force’,” he put the air quotes in, “you to beg for orgasm was a, shall we say, highly motivating challenge. Although, by the end there, my definition of ‘beg nicely’ developed some, ah, flexibility.”</p><p>Pepper giggled. “I do take umbrage to your unfavorable characterization of La Fatalii as, what was it, a cut-rate Black Widow?” She hugged Tony tight, to thwart his babbled apology. “I’m teasing. Who knows though, if you and Natasha were together, you two might be playing like this.”</p><p>The look of horror on his face only deepened. “Look, I’ve made some bad choices, but I have <i>never</i> been sufficiently through with life to take Romanoff on.” He poked her. “And while we’re on the subject of getting deep into character—' undersized and inexpertly wielded dick’? Really, you went there?”</p><p>She felt a little stoned, and the giggles resumed, joined now by her beloved’s own laughter. “The tentacle that went around my neck,” she asked after a minute, “was that tracking my heart rate?”</p><p>“Yep. And the ones in your mouth? Monitors for respiration and oxygen saturation levels.”</p><p>“No kidding,” Pepper was impressed. “I’m glad I sketched out the general outline of what I…had in mind, and left the specifics to your warped imagination. It was nice getting to be surprised by things. You didn’t miss a trick where safety was concerned though, did you?”</p><p>Tony pulled back just enough for her to see how supremely insulted he looked. “Of course not. Sensors to keep up with your vitals were a no-brainer. When I took you down to check your wrists, I also checked the bloodflow and nerve monitors built into those little squirmers. Tracked those on my tablet, the whole time. And the demands, heh, of the role notwithstanding, I was never out of eyeshot of you. Never, ever, will I cut a single corner where you’re concerned. Oh, and this little gadget?” He took her gloved hand and drew her attention to the red and gold ring. “I know you aren’t big on flashy jewelry, but that panic button is linked to our worldwide satellite system, so anyplace on the planet where you are, if you need me, you press that, and the alarm here will go off. If I’m not in here, JARVIS will ping me. I’ll be there.”</p><p>“Which reminds me,” Pepper said, “I thought JARVIS was deactivated in here while we were, um, active, but you called for him when we were done—he brought the chair.”
She thumped the chair’s side for emphasis.</p><p>“Oh,” Tony shrugged. “He’s still active. He did manage the pseudo-‘security’ system through the whole scene, after all, and he’s always monitoring for emergencies, like, say, a short that starts a fire. But only a minimal amount of his awareness is here, enough to do this, for example. Hey, J, relocate us to the fridge, please?” A beefy mech-arm dropped from the ceiling and rolled the chair across the workshop, where Tony had bottles of cold water, peeled and segmented tangerines, and a small tub of Pepper’s favorite tapioca pudding ready to go. “His focus was elsewhere,” Tony went on while they snacked. “He said he had plenty to do. Running memory defragmentation, cleaning up bits of deleted files, et cetera.”</p><p>Pepper frankly gaped. “Tony…you gave JARVIS busywork to keep him from seeing us having kinky sex?”</p><p>“JARVIS gave <i>himself</i> busywork to keep from seeing us having kinky sex,” Tony countered. “Might just be his innate discretion, might be to avoid being traumatized. I don’t know, he didn’t say, and as long as he could do his job, I didn’t ask. Even an AI deserves the privacy of his own personal opinion.”</p><p>Pepper grinned. “I love you.”</p><p>“Same here.” After a few soft kisses, he continued, with a puckish look, “Now that we’ve got this setup worked out, I’m thinking if La Fatalii is interested in another go, next time the genius inventor might let her win. You know how hot and bothered I get when you go all badass, and you looked like you were having entirely too much fun being teased. Why should you get to have all the—”</p><p>“If you want to call it fun,” she mock-grumbled, then laughed again at his appalled expression. “It <i>was</i> fun, Tony, truly it was.” She pondered and nodded. “Yes. La Fatalii just might want appropriate revenge on Stark. And I like your assumption of a next time.”</p><p>“Next <i>times</i>,” he corrected fondly. “Once we recuperate from this one, anyway. That wasn’t even an hour!”</p><p>“It was? Wow. It felt like I was up there half the night.”</p><p>“I’m good at keeping you occupied.”</p><p>“You certainly are.” Pepper didn’t always like Tony’s smug face, but when it was directed at her this way, she did. They settled together, weary and content, in the quiet of the workshop.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew, I haven't written majorly explicit in a while, so I hope y'all enjoyed my attempt. If you wondered for a bit whether this was an AU or what, good, that's what I was aiming for. :D I leaned hard into the ambiguity, for the air of 'is it real or not'.</p><p>As mentioned in the top notes, this story is set between IM2 and Avengers. Tony has the arc reactor, though it’s mentioned only once in passing. I wanted it pre-IM3, because I suspect Pepper might have some issues with bondage games after that ordeal that would need working through, and this story was intended to be irredeemable smut with the only feels being Pepperony love. LOL. (that said, they are trying to talk me into documenting that round 2 they were discussing. Might happen, if y'all like this one, and Pepper decides to tell me what she's plotting to put Tony through.)(ETA, OMG, she just told me. This is gonna be fun...)</p><p>Also, I confess to having no practical experience with kink of this sort, so I apologize in advance for any errors in setup, implementation, etc. Much thanks to my betas, Witchy, Faustess, Moosh and KingPepperony, for your help. {{squish}}</p></blockquote></div></div>
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